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I like your tiger stripes. They adorn your sweet, full, round belly, but also your wide hips, your mighty thighs, your growing love handles, and even your round upper arms. They look like mysterious ornaments scattered across you in a wild pattern. You look so vulnerable with them – that moves me, big boy. Your skin shows where you were too greedy, where it couldn’t keep up anymore. You ate so much, over and over again; you stuffed yourself and enjoyed how much your belly swelled up, until it simply gave up trying to keep up with your gluttony. And I enjoyed it very much; I encouraged you, admired you, and cheered you on. But that was hardly necessary. You greedy little chubbster, time and again you wanted more than just to be full; you wanted to feel your bloat which gave you the big belly you desire. Now the tiger stripes will stay with you. At first they’re a warm red, later they‘re pale, but sitting clearly visible on your skin, I can feel them whenever I glide with my hand over your body. To me, they show your devotion: to stuffing yourself, to gaining weight, so you can be as soft and round as you love it and as I love it, too. They also reveal your impatience, which to me is a sign of your passion—the very thing that draws me to you. You’ve given yourself over to indulgence without a care in the world; you love your rolls, you love your stripes, you wear them proudly, and they draw me in like magic. I want to get to know every one of your tiger stripes. I want to trace them with my fingers, stroke them, and caress you where your weight gain has stretched your skin over its capacity and hurt you so sweet. Let’s keep feasting and see what new patterns we can create on your skin together. I want you to be my work of art, one I never tire of admiring.